Crossing the Line
by Night Lotus Blossom
Summary: AU, Seson 2. Ellie accidently intercepts an email meant for her brother, Chuck, and is left with the Intersect computer embedded in her brain. She and her NSA handler, Major John Casey, are tasked with a delicate operation by General Beckman
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Crossing the Line

**Author**: Night_Lotus

**Rating**: R for this chapter, and NC-17 in later chapters

**Word Count: **1,155

**Chapter: **1/?

**Disclaimer: **I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but because of the creative genius of Chris Fedak and Joshua Schwartz, I am thankful for the opportunity to play in their sandbox.

**Summary**: Ellie accidently intercepts an email meant for her brother, Chuck, and is left with the Intersect computer embedded in her brain. She and her NSA handler, Major John Casey, are tasked with a delicate operation by General Beckman.

**Author's Note**: AU, but takes place within the Season 2 timeframe of "Chuck." Any errors and/or omissions are mine and mine alone. Thanks for joining me on this Jellie journey.

"Major Casey!" the voice snapped in the darkness. "Wake up!" He jerked upright in bed, automatically reaching for the fully loaded SIG Sauer that he kept on his nightstand, disengaging the safety and aiming it in the direction of the disembodied voice that had so rudely snatched him from sleep.

His narrowed blue gaze immediately sought and found the source of the disturbance. The wall-mounted video screen across from his bed was lit up and filled with the scowling face of General Diane Beckman.

"For god sakes, Major, cover yourself!" the General commanded. "What?" Casey grumbled confusedly, not yet fully awake. Beckman pursed her lips and allowed her gaze to travel pointedly down Casey's broad and very bare torso, following the patch of dark hair that narrowed as it trailed down his muscled chest and continued below his lean hips, lingering where the sheet pooled, barely covering his assets. Realization dawned, and he quickly grabbed the sheet with his free hand, yanking it up to his chin as he set the gun back down on the nightstand.

He focused his full attention on the screen. "Ma'am?" "Get Dr. Bartowski," she directed, "and be ready for a briefing in ten minutes." "What about Walker?" he questioned. "Agent Walker's presence is not required." Beckman speared a button on her keyboard with her index finger and the blue and white seal of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence appeared, accompanied by an electronic bleat informing Casey that while their conversation was temporarily over, he had best haul himself out of bed, get dressed and gather Ellie, post haste. It was 0300 in Burbank and 0600 in D.C., which was early, even by Beckman's standards, to be awake, in uniform and summoning field agents for a briefing.

It was assuredly an urgent matter that General Beckman wanted to discuss with them, but "urgent" pretty much described Casey's life in the field, and he didn't let it concern him overmuch as he pulled on a pair of boxers, jeans and a t-shirt and grabbed a pair of socks and tennis shoes on his way downstairs.

The low, base, rumbling growl of a male Bengal tiger filled her bedroom and awakened her from a sound sleep. She reached out and blindly groped for the cell phone on her nightstand. She didn't need to open her eyes to know that John Casey's face would be frowning at her from the iPhone screen. While amusing at the time, given the early hour and her lack of sleep, selecting the growling tiger as Casey's ring tone did not seem very funny right now.

Her grey eyes opened wearily and she tapped the Accept button with her index finger. "John, it's three o'clock in the morning." A long, belabored sigh filled her ear. "I'm painfully aware of the time, Ellie. Now get dressed and be at my place in five minutes for a briefing with Beckman." Before she was able to give birth to the protest forming in her mouth, Casey was gone, giving her no choice but to climb out of bed and get dressed.

Responding to the soft knock, Casey opened the door and was greeted by the sight of a very sleepy and slightly disheveled Dr. Eleanor Bartowski. Though he would never admit it, a twinge of guilt needled him in the gut. "Good morning, sunshine," he smirked, moving aside to allow Ellie to enter the apartment. He caught her eye roll as she made her way past him into the living room and it almost caused a full-fledged grin to spread across his face.

"Coffee's on," he said, with a slight nod toward the kitchen counter as he picked up his steaming mug from the desk. With her back to him, Ellie smiled as she noticed the clean, plain white mug waiting next to the coffee maker. She took her coffee the same way he did, hot, black and bitter. She poured herself some and went to join him in front of the video screen.

They both sipped in companionable silence, waiting for the General to join them. _I wonder if it hurts her to maintain that serious expression all the time, _Ellie wondered, mentally calculating the number of Botox injections it would take to relax Beckman's visage, when the General's image suddenly appeared on the screen.

"Major Casey, Dr. Bartowski," she intoned crisply as she rested her clasped hands on her desk blotter and leaned in closer to the camera. "We've just received intelligence that Franz Jaeger, the boss of the Besitz slave trade syndicate, has booked passage aboard the Queen Elizabeth for a two week Caribbean cruise, which sets sail from Southampton, England in precisely one week. We believe it is his intention to kidnap young women from the various ports of call along the cruise route and traffic them to the highest bidders.

Major, you and Dr. Bartowski will board the ship in Southampton as newlyweds on their honeymoon. Your primary objectives are to obtain Jaeger's encrypted data files cataloging all of the victims previously abducted and to whom they were sold and prevent him from capturing and selling additional women.

Casey's facial expression didn't change during Beckman's explanation, but Ellie's eyes widened and her jaw slackened in response to the General's directive. Beckman zeroed in like a hawk on Ellie's sudden change in demeanor. "Dr. Bartowski, you and agent Casey have been living your cover as a boyfriend and girlfriend for over a year now. Surely neither of you will have any trouble convincing Jaeger that you are a newly married, very affectionate couple. Speaking of which, I suggest you quickly become more comfortable around each other, since it is imperative that you present an impenetrable cover that allows you to gain Jaeger's trust."

"Yes ma'am," Casey replied, still standing at full attention and facing the screen. "And, Major Casey? Loosen up!" she ordered and was abruptly gone with the push of a button.

Ellie suddenly felt his eyes on her, and as she turned to look at him, she caught a glint of something she couldn't quite decipher. "You heard the general, there's no time to waste. It's time to play house. Change the sheets, doc. I'll be spending the night this evening. Wear something sexy," he smirked, winking at her.

She didn't attempt to hide the roll of her eyes this time as she walked to the door and quietly let herself out of his apartment. The trip across the courtyard to her apartment was brief, and she knew he was watching her. Watching her to make sure she made it home safely, because that is what he did. He watched. He protected.

He wanted sexy? He was going to get sexy in spades. _I'm going to topple his calm like a shoddily assembled Jenga tower_, she mused as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door to her apartment.

TBC…

Naughty Knot

Honey Spot


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Crossing the Line

**Author**: Night_Lotus

**Rating**: R for this chapter, and NC-17 in later chapters

**Word Count: **2,294

**Chapter: **2/?

**Disclaimer: **I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but because of the creative genius of Chris Fedak and Joshua Schwartz, I have the opportunity to play in their sandbox.

**Summary**: Ellie accidently intercepts an email meant for her brother, Chuck, and is left with the Intersect computer embedded in her brain. She and her NSA handler, Major John Casey, are tasked with a delicate operation by General Beckman.

**Author's Note**: AU, but takes place mostly within the Season 2 timeframe of "Chuck." Any errors and/or omissions are mine and mine alone. Thanks for joining me on this journey.

Ellie set the champagne-colored bag down on her dresser, fingering the delicate lacy ribbon tied in an elegant bow around the handles. Nestled amidst the clouds of pearly tissue paper filling the bag was the "sexy" that Casey had so cockily requested earlier that day.

She started laughing. Laughing at the completely unbelievable situation she found herself in. In the space of about a year, she'd unwillingly had a top-secret super computer filled with classified government intelligence crammed into her brain, watched her relationship with Devon disintegrate before her eyes, started spinning outrageous lies to her family and friends, had her life threatened more times than she cared to count and finally accepted that she was hopelessly in love with her tall, dark and snarky handler.

Somewhat akin to the images that she experienced when she flashed, Ellie started reliving the past.

_A little more than a year ago…_

Even after a particularly tedious 12 hour stint at the hospital, Ellie was positively bouncy as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door to her apartment. It was Friday night, and she had the next two days off. Better yet, Devon was in Baja for the weekend, cliff diving with a passel of his adrenaline-addicted bros and Chuck was working a couple of extra shifts at the Buy More to earn some pocket change for his upcoming trip with Morgan to Comic-Con. Finally, some blissfully quiet time alone to do whatever she wanted.

She had just crossed the threshold, flipped on the lights and set her purse down on the dining room table, when her cell phone rang. She fished the phone from her purse, glancing at the name on the screen before flipping it open as she walked down the hall toward the bedroom.

"Hi Chuck. What's up?"

"Hey, Sis, I need a favor."

"Where are you?" she questioned, disgusted by the obnoxiously long and loud belch that erupted in the background.

"Oh, me, Morgan and some of the guys are competing in an after-hours Call of Duty tournament against a few of the Large Mart employees."

"Naked keg stands for whoever loses the first round. I'll prime the pump!" Jeff slurred in the background.

"Chuck!" Ellie warned, her jaw jutting out in response to her mounting frustration.

"Sorry, sorry!" Chuck apologized. "Jeff, why don't you help Lester set up the Xboxes in the home theater room?" Chuck suggested out of the side of his mouth, motioning with his head toward the home theater room.

Ellie sighed, using her ear to pin the phone to her shoulder as she removed her tennis shoes, resting them on the shoe rack inside the bedroom closet. "What do you need Chuck?"

"Yeah," he said, returning his focus to the call. "El, can you go into my room and check my computer for an email from Morgan? He sent me a cheat code last night for the game, and I forgot to forward it to my work email address."

"Isn't Morgan there with you? And really, Chuck, haven't you learned your lesson about cheating?"

"No, he's on a grape soda and nachos run, and he isn't answering his cell phone, and it isn't really cheating, well, not really…" he trailed off, laughing nervously. "Anyway, do you mind El?"

"Okay," she said entering his bedroom, picking up a stray pair of socks lying on the floor next to his computer desk and tossing them in the hamper out of habit.

Since Chuck always left his computer in hibernation mode, it only took a simple tap of the mouse for it to come back to life. Ellie clicked the email icon and sat down at the desk, waiting for the inbox to load. As soon as she spotted the email from Morgan, entitled "Mondo Cheat Codes," she opened it.

"Okay, Chuck, are you ready?" she asked, her eyes scanning down to the bottom of the message where Morgan had included three separate codes comprised of a combination of letters, numbers and symbols that looked like senseless gibberish to her.

"Go!" Chuck responded, shouting above the booming base and sounds of hip hop blasting through the Buy More. Ellie proceeded to read the codes to Chuck and had her finger poised on the mouse button about to minimize Chuck's email client, when an animated envelope whizzed across the screen announcing that Chuck had a new email from Bryce Larkin.

"Bryce Larkin? she boggled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a mix of astonishment and ire pervading her tone as she peered more closely at the screen.

Back at the Buy More, Chuck's grip on his phone involuntarily tightened and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as his eyes widened. "Wha…Bryce Larkin? What made you think of him all of a sudden, Ellie?"

Not hesitating, she opened the email. "That's just it, I didn't. You just got an email from Bryce and all it says is 'The terrible troll raises his sword,' and there is a textbox underneath with a blinking cursor." Her hackles and her suspicion were rising. "What is this about, Chuck?"

"Oh my God, I haven't thought about that in **years**!" Chuck muttered, more to himself than to her.

Ellie continued to fret, chewing nervously on her lower lip. "I don't like this Chuck. What does it mean, and why are you hearing from Bryce now, especially after what happened at school?"

Chuck paced back and forth in front of the Nerd Herd desk, trying to process what was going on, while trying to filter out the cacophony of the belching contest taking place in the background. He snapped his fingers three times in rapid succession, a huge white-toothed grin breaking out on his face, signaling a moment of eureka. "I've got it. Okay, Ellie, type this in the text box: 'Attack troll with nasty knife.'"

"Honestly, Chuck? Explain to me what's going on. Now!" Chuck cringed as Ellie's mom voice pierced his eardrum through the phone. "Honestly, sis, I don't know. I haven't heard from Bryce since I got kicked out of Stanford, but there's obviously something important he needs to tell me, otherwise, he wouldn't have used an encryption question only he and I know the answer to, just to access a simple email. "The question and answer are from a version of the game Zork that Bryce and I created when we were roommates," Chuck explained.

"Well, let's find out what he wants," she said as the words 'attack troll with nasty knife' filled the text box as she typed. She clicked the "Ok" button under the textbox, and at first, nothing happened. Then, suddenly the computer screen was filled with pulsing images that flickered in front of her eyes so quickly that she did not fully comprehend what she was seeing, yet she was unable to look away. Pictures of beautiful blooming flowers and bright orange goldfish were overlaid with photographs of bloody, dead bodies, bomb schematics, explosions and missiles.

She started feeling sick to her stomach, and the next thing she knew, she felt a hand shaking shoulder and heard Chuck's voice repeating her name over and over again from very far away.

"Ellie? Hey, c'mon Ellie, wake up," Chuck pleaded. She cracked her eyes open and lifted her head, which felt like it was the recipient of a world-class hangover. "What – Chuck – how did I?" Unable to finish her thought, she rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes again.

"No, no, no, don't do that." Chuck shook her shoulder again. Only receiving a small, pitiful moan in response, he picked her up from the chair and carried her out of the apartment to the Nerd Herder parked outside. As he buckled her into the passenger seat, Ellie started regaining consciousness again. "Chuck, why am I in your car, and where are you taking me?" She looked around and groaned as a sharp pain lanced through her skull.

Chuck put the car in reverse and looked over his shoulder as he backed out. "I'm taking you the emergency room. El, it took me almost five minutes to get you to acknowledge me and speak in incomplete sentences. I got worried after we got disconnected earlier and you wouldn't answer your cell phone when I called back, so I came home to check on you. I found you lying face down on my desk in a puddle of your own drool."

The look of confusion on her face was quickly replaced by one of fear. "The last thing I remember was trying to open an email from Bryce Larkin. After that, everything is blank." "It's going to be okay, El," Chuck soothed, covering her hand with his as he sped toward the hospital.

After enduring the embarrassment of being worried over by a bevy of her colleagues and undergoing a host of diagnostic tests, Ellie was given a clean bill of health, but ordered by the ER chief of staff to take a few days off to rest before returning to work.

While she started feeling better almost immediately and took the prescribed time off, Ellie still couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. An almost continuous sense of déjà vu hounded her night and day, edging along her spine, setting her composure on edge.

The first time she flashed, what happened was more than just simply unexpected. It nearly brought her to her knees. She sat at one of the computers at the nurse's station, completing her electronic charting. The three nurses working the night shift were attending to patients, and she was thankful for the quiet and the time to catch her breath before her workday ended.

Finally finished, she rose to leave, glancing at the headlines on the newspaper lying on the desk. Her eyes drifted to the picture of a well-known fugitive who was recently apprehended. Her entire body froze, her eyelids lowered, partially shuttering her eyes, and a series of rapid-fire, gruesome images flooded her vision as stone-cold facts about the serial killer's previous victims filled her mind. In reality, all of this happened in the space of a few seconds, but for her, it felt like an eternity. After it was over, she almost collapsed from the shock of it, grasping the desk until her knuckles turned white, slowly sinking down into the chair, holding her forehead in the palm of her hand.

She pulled the newspaper closer and read the article that accompanied the photograph, which confirmed everything she had already "seen" in her mind. Since she recently had a CAT scan, she knew she didn't have a brain tumor, so she must be simply losing her mind. "What the hell is happening to me and why?" she whispered.

The "what" and the "why" were explained shortly after Ellie met the sweet and friendly new blonde cashier working in the hospital cafeteria and the towering and gorgeous new patient tech assigned to her floor.

Within seconds after Bryce Larkin clicked send as he bled to death on the cold concrete, courtesy of the life-ending lead pumped into his body by the NSA assassin, the U.S. government confirmed the recipient of the email.

The NSA and CIA sent their top agents, Major John Casey and Sarah Walker, to recover the intelligence leaked by Larson and eliminate any associated threats to national security. While no evidence, data or otherwise, of the Intersect remained on Charles Bartowski's hard drive, the agents did learn through careful and sometimes confusing observation that the Intersect apparently resided within the neural network of his sister, Dr. Eleanor Faye Bartowski. After they sussed this out, Walker and Casey assumed cover jobs at the hospital where Ellie worked, forming, at first, a distrusting and uneasy alliance to protect the Asset.

Back in her bedroom, Ellie stood at the dresser, idly tracing the pale pink script lettering on the lingerie bag, slowing spelling the word "Temptations" with her index finger as she recalled the first time she met Major John Casey.

It was nearing two a.m. and the completion of what turned out to be a 14 hour shift. There was a multiple car accident on the freeway, which involved not one, but two jack- knifed semis. Broken and bleeding motorists were rushed to the ER all night long, and Ellie and the rest of the ER team were able to save most of them. One of the truck drivers didn't make it, and a female passenger in one of the cars was touch and go in intensive care. But, by hospital standards, they scored a victory that day.

Feeling the fatigue down to the roots of her long, dark hair, which was bobbing in a pony tail as she walked briskly to the staff locker room to change, Ellie hit a wall, literally. Rounding the corner, she collided with what felt like warm, contoured steel. Barely getting out a squeak of protest, she bounced off and was headed for a seat on the floor when two large hands firmly wrapped around her upper arms, steadying her and drawing her close.

Still startled, she looked up at the very handsome – no, _hot_ – she corrected herself, face of the dark-haired scrub-clad man holding her in his arms. Their eyes met, and Ellie found herself adrift in a brilliant sea of blue. She would still be floating there contentedly had he not flashed her the sexiest smile she'd ever seen and introduced himself. It was part bad-boy smirk coupled with an 'I like what I see, too' grin, which jolted her to the core.

Still smiling, he released her from his embrace, engulfing her smaller hand in his large, warm, slightly roughened one. "Hi, I'm John."

TBC

Next: Casey and Ellie have a slumber party.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Crossing the Line

**Author**: Night_Lotus

**Rating**: NC-17

**Word Count: **2,860

**Chapter: **3, Part I

**Disclaimer: **I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but because of the creative genius of Chris Fedak and Joshua Schwartz, I have the opportunity to play in their sandbox.

**Summary**: Ellie accidently intercepts an email meant for her brother, Chuck, and is left with the Intersect computer embedded in her brain. She and her NSA handler, Major John Casey, are tasked with a delicate operation by General Beckman. Casey sleeps over.

**Author's Note**: AU, but takes place mostly within the Season 2 timeframe of "Chuck." Any errors and/or omissions are mine and mine alone. Since this chapter is a bit long, it will be split into two parts. Thanks for joining me on this journey.

_Present Day, Castle_

"Hmmmph," Casey grunted as he took inventory of the grenades and other ammunition lining the shelves. "Been going through these like water lately," he commented with a frown as he made several check marks on the official NSA Munitions Order Form attached to his clipboard.

The sudden vibration of the cell phone resting in his pocket provided a welcome diversion. He pulled it out, flipped it open and read the text message on the screen. _Dinner 6:00. Don't B late. Wear something sexy. ;-)_ The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. "Heh."

The crease between Sarah's eyebrows deepened as she focused on writing her monthly report summarizing the missions Team Bartowski completed, including the number of captures, casualties and cleaner teams required for each assignment. "New mission orders, Casey?" She questioned as she turned around, looking in his direction.

"Something like that. Beckman gave me and the Intersect a new assignment, and we're working on firming up our covers tonight."

A smug smile played at Sarah's lips as she shot Casey a knowing look.

With a curt nod of his head, he gestured toward Sarah's phone, which was lying on the table a few inches from her hand. "Hey, Walker, is that your cell phone ringing? It must be the kettle calling back."

"That's not fair, Casey!" she volleyed back as she watched him sling the strap of his black backpack over his right shoulder and climb the stairs.

"What would either of us know about fair?" he tossed over his shoulder with a wink.

"Touché, Casey. I just hope neither one of you ends up getting hurt," she whispered, concern visible in her blue eyes, as she watched his black combat boots disappear from view at the top of the stairs.

The changes in the interactions between the Asset and her handler were subtle and had developed slowly over the duration of the assignment. No one but Sarah Walker really realized or paid any mind to the shift in dynamic. To the outside world, they were simply John and Ellie, an unexpected, yet seemingly storybook illustration of opposites attracting. But, to Walker's trained eye, they were much more.

_Castle, two weeks prior…_

Upon their return to Castle after a successful mission, adrenaline was running high. No one had gotten shot, stabbed or blown up. Chalk one up for Team Bartowski. Even Casey was in a good mood, reflecting on how they successfully liberated the schematics for a dirty bomb from the personal safe of a suspected terrorist, who was now being "rehabilitated" in a secure underground government facility.

"We got in, we got out, we got what we came for," Casey summarized for General Beckman, debriefing her on the mission as the three of them sat at the conference table.

"Good work Major, Agent Walker, Doctor Bartowski," Beckman stoically praised the team before abruptly killing the comm. link with a quick jab of her index finger.

Casey caught the way the corners of Ellie's mouth twitched as she tried and failed to hide her smile. Her smile grew even wider when Casey turned to her and asked "Wanna share what's so funny, Doc?"

"Really, John," she laughed, turning in her chair to face him. "We got in, we got out, and we got what we came for? Isn't that your normal M.O., or do you just save that for the bedroom?" she teased.

Sarah failed to suppress a snort of laughter, which earned a narrow-eyed glare from Casey before he rose slowly and purposely from his chair.

A smile still lighting her face, Ellie watched as Casey advanced upon her. She never tired of watching him move. Given his substantial size, he traveled with a surprising amount of fluidity and grace.

Still dressed in his black mission gear, he reminded her of a panther. The powerful muscles of his thighs strained against the fabric of the cargos as he stalked closer, swallowing the inconsequential gap between where he had been sitting and where she remained seated. The ribbed combat jersey clung to his arms and torso like a second skin. Her breath involuntarily caught in her throat as she witnessed his biceps flex and his pectoral muscles shift as he loomed over her, resting his hands on the conference table on either side of her, creating a private enclosure as he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

Lord, the man radiated heat, and she was instantly cocooned in warmth. She shivered involuntarily as her body reacted to the change in temperature and his nearness. Her eyes closed and her nostrils flared as they filled with the scent of tobacco, sweat and man. Goosebumps blossomed along the column of her neck as his lips brushed against the inner shell of her ear and the hushed secret vibrated against her eardrum.

He withdrew, smirking as he watched her cheeks redden. She licked her lips, her eyes still wide, as she stood shakily.

She smiled nervously at Sarah and completely avoided eye contact with Casey, as she headed for the exit. "I'd better go. I have some errands to run and an early shift at the hospital tomorrow."

Maintaining a neutral expression, Sarah rose from her seat at the conference table and casually stretched. "Okay, Ellie, get some rest, and we'll touch base tomorrow," she offered the suddenly unnerved doctor a small, reassuring smile as Ellie began ascending the stairs that led out of Castle.

As soon as she was certain Ellie was gone and out of earshot, the blonde rounded on him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down the still-smirking NSA agent. "What did you say to her, Casey?"

He started weaponing down, taking his time before responding, the clink of his trusty Sig making contact with the table the only sound breaking the silence. He could feel Sarah's unwavering gaze upon him as he continued slowly and deliberately unloading his personal artillery.

After he set the last grenade on the table, he turned and faced his partner, his blue eyes locking with hers. "I gave Dr. Bartowski a little something to think about."

_Present Day…_

The rich aroma of slow-cooked beef filled the air as Ellie made final dinner preparations. The table was already set, and she poked her head in the fridge, checking to see if the whipped cream she had spun up earlier was still light and airy. Satisfied with the height of the creamy white peaks, she shut the refrigerator door, just as the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock on the microwave and smiled. Six o'clock on the dot, punctual as always.

She barely got the door open before his hands were on her hips hauling her up against the length of his body. The stubble along his jaw rasped against the softness of her cheek as he murmured against her ear "Quick, kiss me! Mrs. Reynolds is watching." Mrs. Reynolds was the elderly, eagle-eyed gossip monger that lived catty-corner from Ellie across the courtyard. If witnessed by Mrs. Reynolds, news of John and Ellie's public display of affection would be telegraphed along the rumor mill in mere minutes, further solidifying their cover.

Instead of the usual firm, yet brief kiss on the lips that she usually gave him in public, she reached up, encircled his neck, threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down. He couldn't stop the momentum of his mouth crashing down on hers with bruising force, and she made it very obvious that she didn't want him to. Before he even had a chance to react, her mouth was open under his, and she wrapped her lips around his tongue, sucking it into her mouth.

Well, damn, this was new, but he sure as hell was going to go with it. He wedged a size 15 black boot between the scarlet sling-backed peek-a-boo heels covering her feet, coaxing her legs apart with his knee.

Ellie held on and continued to kiss him, the extra height afforded by her heels easily allowing her to straddle his thigh. She had a thing for men in cargos, him being her favorite model. He had to know they got her riled, since she'd been caught, more than once, enjoying the way he wore them on missions. The midnight black pants, which he wore tonight, were no exception. The ruby-red halter dress ended abruptly at mid thigh, and the button on the pocket topping the center of his thigh rubbed against her sensitive inner flesh as she gripped his rock-hard muscle between her legs.

Christ! He could feel the heat radiating from her thinly-veiled core, the friction building and threatening to ignite as she unashamedly started rocking softly against him. His hunger for her started to spiral out of control as he imagined what color shreds her panties would make as he tore them off with his teeth.

She drove him to the edge of reason, and for a man like him, that made the situation infinitely more dangerous. He had to get her inside before he took her right there, against the door frame, in front of God, country and the currently slack-jawed Mrs. Reynolds.

He growled into her mouth, and his fingers dug into the swell of her hips, as he half carried, half dragged her into the condo. Ten fingertip-shaped bruises were already starting to blossom against the curvy flesh. After crossing the threshold, he turned them 180 degrees and reached down and around, cupping her rounded bottom, keeping her sealed against him as he lifted her up.

She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, the fabric of her dress bunching around her hips. The wood felt cool against her bare back, the impact of John pinning her against the door with his bulk causing it to slam shut.

Just as she began to consider the beauty of asphyxiating this way, he broke the kiss, allowing them to greedily fill their lungs with air. Her respite was short-lived, and he showed no mercy. She was still breathing raggedly, drawing in copious amounts of oxygen, when his mouth was on hers again. His tongue licked along hers with long, deep strokes.

John had let this continue far beyond what was appropriate, but he really didn't give a fuck. Ellie tasted better than anything he had ever sampled, and she fit against him so sweet and right. She made him ache in the best and worst possible way. He wanted to feast on her forever. She was making the sexiest little mewling sounds quietly into his mouth, and he was about to do something he couldn't take back. He set out to discover what she would sound like at full volume.

She had never been this physically close to John, even when they previously "pretended" to be a couple. Things were not going to be the same again after tonight. She refused to let them return to their asset/handler relationship, especially not after getting a taste of what it felt like when John let his guard down and allowed himself to succumb to their shared attraction.

She felt him swell, growing large and hard against her belly. If he later claimed he was doing all of this for their cover and in the name of the overall mission, she would call him out with surgical precision. For now, she fully intended to enjoy being wrapped around him. The man was as solid as a boulder and felt burning hot against her bare skin and the thinly knitted fabric of her dress. If their first time together ended up being against the front door, so be it. She wanted John Casey, and she was going to have him.

He had plenty of control left. He would be able to stop well before he buried himself balls deep inside of her and jack hammered her into the front door.

A single bead of sweat trailed down the column of her throat, and he diligently tracked it with the tip of his tongue, licking in its wake. He paused briefly in his pursuit to place a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the hollow of her throat and felt her flushed skin shift deliciously across his mouth as she swallowed a groan. Her moan of pleasure vibrated against his lips in belated response. He continued hunting the droplet, pressing kisses along the slight cleft between her breasts, tracing the contours of exposed skin with his tongue.

He wanted his hands to follow everywhere his mouth had been, but they were occupied at the moment with her beautiful backside. During his life he had faced worse dilemmas, so he gave her a gentle squeeze and kept his hands anchored right where they were.

She arched against him, offering more of herself as she felt his teeth nip hungrily along her neck. His thumb, which had been languidly tracing along the outer edge of her panties, dipped under the lacy fabric. Rough and calloused met soft and bare. A strangled "John" caught in her throat as he skimmed across her hip bone.

He was exploring the intriguing ridge of her clavicle, outlining it with his tongue, when he heard her attempt to say his name. "Mmmm hmmmm," he hummed against the pulse point throbbing wildly in her throat, latching on and sucking. The rest of his fingers, not to be outdone, slipped beneath her panties, and he cupped her in his palms.

As her thighs squeezed his waist and her heels dug into the small of his back, he sank his teeth into the warm, sun-kissed skin of her shoulder, his control in tatters. She cried out as sensations of pleasure, gilded with a whisper of pain, coursed through her. He felt her shudder around him as he soothed the hurt on her shoulder.

He growled low in his throat. It couldn't be. While soft and almost imperceptible at first, the intensity and volume of the knocking increased and was followed by the insistent ringing of the doorbell. "Ignore it," she instructed, still breathless. But, the persistence of the person on the other side of the door continued to build, commanding attention, or his fist. He firmly decided on the later as he felt Ellie unwrap her legs from his waist and slide slowly and bonelessly down his torso. She held on to his shoulders for a moment until she was sure she was able to stand on her own.

She stepped aside, and he looked out the peephole. His growl intensified.

"Who is it, John?"

"Someone who obviously hasn't learned that curiosity killed the cat," he ground out from between clenched teeth.

Sharp cracking sounds filled the silence that hung in the air as he squeezed his knuckles before opening the door.

"Oh, hello, dear," the tiny woman greeted him, smiling as she craned her head to look up at Casey, her watery brown eyes enormous behind her bifocals.

He kept his best "respect your elders" smile firmly in place. He wasn't in the habit of killing nosey old ladies, but if this continued much longer, he might be forced to make an exception.

"Hello, Mrs. Reynolds," he replied, gazing down at her, crossing his arms over his chest and widening his stance, preventing her from peering around him and peeking into the condo.

"I was just coming back from checking the mail when I noticed a bag sitting outside Dr. Bartowski's door," she said, pointing at Casey's black duffle bag. "I didn't want any of those hooligans that sometimes come through here, to steal it. You know, that big balding blond man and his strange little dark-haired friend."

Casey's smile turned a bit more genuine and he allowed a bit of forgiveness for the older woman to enter his heart. "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Reynolds," Casey thanked her, picking up the bag. "Forgive me, but Ellie and I were just about to sit down to dinner. Have a good evening, ma'am."

"Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Casey," she winked and walked across the courtyard to her apartment with a spry spring in her step.

A long sigh escaped Casey's lungs as he walked back into the condo and quietly closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he set the duffle bag at his feet.

His back had been turned, talking to Mrs. Reynolds for less than five minutes, and Ellie had already plated and set out dinner.

She walked toward him, her usual sweet smile on her face. "Ellie, I –," an unformed explanation or excuse, he wasn't sure which, was cut short as she took his hand and led him toward the table.

"Come and eat while everything is still warm." She looked pointedly at his overnight bag. "We can have more fun, later."

He was rendered speechless as he sat at the table and felt extremely aroused. He had always been the hunter, but he was fairly certain he was going to enjoy being the prey.

TBC

Author's Note: In part two, Casey and Ellie enjoy a delectable dinner for two, followed by bedtime. Will they actually sleep? Doubtful.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: This little side-shot snippet takes place immediately after Ellie's encounter with Casey in Castle where he whispered a secret in her ear.

She was still shaking when she got home, aftershocks rolling through her body after her very personal encounter with one Major John Casey.

Rather than being angry or embarrassed that he had nerve to whisper those things in her ear, with Sarah in the room no less, she hungered for more, starved to hear him tell her more of what he wanted to do to her.

The old Ellie, well, she would have slapped him across his arrogant, handsome face, outraged and offended by his brazen impudence. The new Ellie, "Ellie 2.0" as she had nicknamed herself shortly after becoming the human Intersect, was barely restraining herself from returning to Castle and calling the Major's bluff. The man made her whole damn body ache, and she was tired of playing games.

"He wants to play? We'll play," she huffed, nearly crushing her purse as she grabbed it off the table on her way to the front door. "To the victor go the spoils," she muttered.

She yanked the door open, liquid fire edged with sheer determination burning in her eyes, now the color of molten steel, and crashed into an unyielding wall of solid muscle. Déjà vu washed over her as, once again, large hands banded around her upper arms, arresting her velocity. She felt herself leaning in, or, was she being pulled in, toward his heat.

"John? What-?" she blinked, looking up, getting lost once again in a brilliant sea of blue.

He loosened his grip, slowly sliding his hands down the length of her arms before releasing her. Never breaking eye contact, he unbuttoned one of the front pockets of his cargos and fished out a small, white plastic square. Holding it by the metal clip at the top, he dangled it in front of her face.

Her likeness started back at her, "Westside Hospital" stamped at the bottom of the badge. "You dropped this in Castle in your haste," he said quietly, taking a step forward, causing her to step over the threshold and back into the condo.

"Thank you, John. That was very careless of me." Her lips parted, and she siphoned shallow breaths into her mouth, watching as he continued to advance on her as she backed further into her home.

She felt her back meet the edge of the breakfast bar. "You seemed in an awful hurry to get somewhere, Ellie." He leaned forward, his hands resting easily on the breakfast bar, closing her in, as he planted his feet on either side of hers, completing the cage.

The new Ellie wasn't feeling quite so gutsy now. "I was heading out to do my errands. I have a lot to get done before work tomorrow." Her cheeks flamed and she felt her lower lip tremble even as she was mentally rebuking herself for letting the steel sift right out of her spine.

John pressed closer, grazing her breasts with his chest. God, the man was killing her. He lifted a hand, grasping a strand of errant, silky sable hair between his thumb and forefinger, tucking it behind her ear.

She was drowning in a pool of heat, moisture slickening the inside of her thighs as his body came closer, and she felt the delicious rasp of his calloused fingers against the tender shell of her ear. An involuntary shudder wracked her body, and she clamped her mouth shut, stifling her gasp.

"Cold, Ellie?" he asked, learning further forward, pressing his bigger body against hers.

"Y-yes," she stammered. "I must have caught a chill. It's cold in here."

"Liar," he breathed in her ear.

~Fin


	5. Chapter 5

Casey took a seat at the end of the table, keeping a sharp eye on Ellie as she sat down, seemingly innocently, next to him, unfolding the crisp, white linen napkin and draping it over her lap. He did the same, clenching his teeth and barely suppressing an audible hiss as the starched cloth rested heavily against his still rock-hard dick. _Shit_.

He had to put a stop to this. Had he enjoyed flirting with Ellie and pushing the boundary of their asset/handler relationship to its breaking point? Absolutely. Had he behaved like a brazenly arrogant bastard by teasing her and seducing her sadistically slowly? Yep. No argument there. Did he want to send the dishes, cutlery and candles careening off the table in a single sweep? Affirmative. Instead of eating dinner, he wanted to eat her, starting by licking up the wet evidence of her arousal coating the inside of her thighs that he scented earlier when he had her pressed up against the door, those delicious, sky-high legs wrapped around his waist.

She was slingshotting him into madness by sitting there so quietly, her hands folded serenely in her lap, offering him an expectant smile as she waited for him to take a bite of the incredible-smelling food on his plate. She wanted to play it cool? Outstanding. Maybe she had come to her senses, letting their previous interlude slide, ignoring the reality that if not for Mrs. Reynolds' inopportune interruption, she would be, right now, clenched around his cock, riding him as he fucked her against the front door. He wanted to believe that with the entirety of his being as he returned her polite smile, picking up his fork. But, his gut and his engorged groin refused to allow him to swallow that neat little fairy tale. He was humped and he knew it.

At least his last meal before 'The Reckoning' would be a good one, he thought as he brought the utensil to his mouth. He didn't attempt to stifle his groan of pleasure as the slow-cooked beef brisket melted on his tongue. "Mmmm. Ellie, this is delicious," he said around a mouthful of moist, sweet, smoky meat.

She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling as she raised a forkful of sage and brown butter mashed potatoes to her mouth. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

The fact that she had waited for him to take the first bite before digging in herself, didn't escape him. She was far too polite for a guy like him, but he didn't quite have the heart to tell her that her manners were wasted on him. Ellie had definitely carved a substantial chink in his armor, and it was imperative that he close the gap. He was a cold, mean, ruthless killer, whose only true love was his job. The sooner he made her realize that, the better off they would both be.

They ate in companionable silence for a while until he asked "So, you ready for the final mission briefing with Beckman tomorrow?" between forkfuls of brisket and buttery potatoes.

She took a sip of wine, the confident, relaxed look she had worn all evening suddenly gone, replaced by one of grave seriousness. It was the same look she wore when she was doing her damndest to yank patients back from the brink of death in the ER. John stopped chewing and placed his fork carefully on his plate, giving her his full attention.

"You know what, John?" she asked rhetorically, "If you had asked me that question last week or even yesterday, my answer would have been no." She removed her napkin from her lap, neatly folded it and rested it next to her empty plate.

He continued to cautiously monitor her every move. There was no mistaking her body language. She was a tightly wound coil. He had to be ready when she decided to spring.

"But now, now I'm ready for this. I'm ready to stop that sex-slaving scumbag and make sure he never ever ruins another woman's life by taking what isn't his." She spoke each word with cold, hard conviction, her steely eyes never leaving his.

"I'm finally ready to stop pretending that I'm the same person I was before I became a walking, talking computer." She stood from the table, neatly gathering her napkin, plate and silverware.

"The old Ellie? Well, bits of her are still there." She stood at his side, her soft words asserting a hard truth. "But, the new Ellie," she continued, "the new Ellie isn't afraid. She goes after what she wants and takes it." His entire body tightened and the tiny hairs along the nape of his neck bristled as her eyes swept over him with the look of a predator, before she calmly continued walking, setting her dinnerware down on the counter next to the sink.

_Jesus. He was seriously humped._

John sighed wearily as he got up from the table and brought his plate to the counter, stacking it neatly under hers, piling the silverware on top. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his napkin on the floor, under the table, mocking him. He bent to pick it up, and as he rose, he was rewarded with the sight of ruby-red material stretched tightly across Ellie's delectable backside as she bent to retrieve something from the depths of the refrigerator. _It was going to be a very long night._

Ellie withdrew a golden, sweet-smelling cake from the refrigerator, placing it on the counter as she reached in a drawer for the cake knife. "John, can you go in the fridge and grab the whipped cream, please?" she tossed over her shoulder as she cut the cake into thick slices.

He held the chilled ceramic bowl in the palm of his hand and peeled back the plastic wrap. She turned, catching him just as he swirled his finger through the pristine cream. He gave her his best 'aw shucks, ma'am' smile, hoping it would keep him out of trouble.

She took the bowl from him, setting it on the counter next to the cake, turning and capturing his wrist in her hand before the cream-laden digit reached his mouth. "I never did taste this after I whipped it."

He didn't protest as Ellie drew his wrist down, bringing his finger to her lips. "I should make sure it's sweet enough," she murmured. She ran her tongue up the length of his finger, licking a path through the nutmeg-scented cream, its sweetness coupling with the salt from his skin, in her mouth. She reached the top and flicked her tongue over the tip before encircling his finger with her lips and slowly sliding down the length.

John's eyes darkened to a deep blue as his finger sank deeper into the hot, wet depths of her mouth, her tongue continuing to lap at his skin.

"Ellie…" Her name left his lips as a harsh whisper. He wasn't certain if it was a warning or a plea.

She looked up, locking her eyes with his as she slowly slid his finger from her mouth. "Yes, it's definitely sweet enough. In fact, it's perfect."

He stared at his moist finger, still feeling the heat from her mouth and the touch of her tongue ghosting along his flesh.

Ellie continued tranquilly plating the cake and topping it with whipped cream, seemingly oblivious to the fire she had stoked in him with that little mouth job of hers. He was ready to explode and couldn't stop the images of her hot mouth sucking him like a piece of hard candy, from running on auto loop in his mind. He slowly and carefully sat down at the table and gripped the edges until the wood began to crack in protest.

"Here you go, John" she said, placing a generous slice of cake topped with more of the sweet and spicy cream in front of him.

_Must. Regain. Control. _He steeled himself, forcing his face to become a blank slate, to which he added a polite smile. "Thanks."

The tines of his fork sank into the soft cake, and he brought a whipped cream-topped bite to his mouth. It was moist and rich. The sweet taste of mangos filled his mouth, followed by the spice of the nutmeg whipped cream exploding on his tongue. For the love of everything holy! Between the mouthgasm her incredible food was giving him and her not-so-subtle seduction, she was slowly killing him. Death by sensory overload; it wasn't the worst way he could think of to go.

_Yep. Must. Regain. Control. _"Hey, Ellie," he started as he helped her clean up the kitchen, drying a plate and placing it in the drying rack. "The 'World's Greatest Tank Battles' is on the History channel tonight. Mind if I watch that after we're done with this?" he asked, nodding his head at the small remaining pile of dishes.

"Not at all, John; I have a few medical journals that I need to get caught up on before we go to bed."

Relief washed over him and he finally allowed his body to relax for the first time since she opened the front door for him earlier in the evening. _Okay, good_, he reasoned, _some time and space to regroup and refocus. Nothing like a good, blazing tank battle to repossess one's calm._

Bright orange explosions lit the mostly darkened living room and the constant barrage of anti-tank fire shook the walls, but Ellie didn't flinch. She remained curled up in the armchair adjacent to the couch, the latest edition of 'The New England Journal of Medicine' open on her lap, soft light from the end table lamp spilling across its pages. She had read the same sentence eight times. If she didn't before, she now fully understood the effectiveness of using antimicrobial agents in treating bacterial meningitis.

The moment she had been waiting for all night—hell, ever since she inelegantly bounced off of a scrubs-clad Casey a little over a year ago, was almost here. They were about to share a bed. Excitement, dread and anticipation played ring around the rosy in her stomach.

It took every ounce of self control she possessed not to look at him. The one time she had taken a peek, his face was awash in the brilliant flashes from the TV. Chuck had spoken the truth when he said "Sis, your boyfriend's jaw was chiseled by Michelangelo himself." And, it wasn't just that rock-solid, strong jaw that was getting to her. No, it was his mouth, his lips to be exact. She wanted to feel them on hers again. Desperately.

She had to keep her cool. She was remarkably proud of how the evening had progressed after Mrs. Reynolds' ill-timed interruption. Instead of giving in to her desire to hop back on and ride John Casey for everything she was worth, she had served dinner with well-bred politeness. She had only slipped once when she caught him sinking his finger into the whipped cream. She couldn't resist stealing a taste.

Was it bad that she felt a little tickle of pleasure over keeping him guessing while perched upon arousal's edge? No, she decided. She'd been roosting there for months. She welcomed the company.

Praising capitalism for the commercial break, she rose from the chair, making a show of stretching her long limbs. "John, I'm going to start getting ready for bed." She walked over to where he was seated on the couch and ran her hand slowly over his shoulder and down his arm. "Come and join me whenever you're ready."

He watched her walk away and sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He momentarily allowed himself to slump back against the couch cushions before reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. He had been **so** close to regaining his calm.

She had just finished lacing up the side of the champagne-colored teddy and was tying the top bow when she heard him come in and the bedroom door close with a soft click. Her hands were shaking just a bit as she nervously ran her fingers over the silky material. She swallowed hard and sank her top teeth into her lower lip, worrying the plump flesh as she reached out and slowly turned the bathroom door handle.

Ellie found John comfortably propped up on the bed, pillows behind his head, reading an issue of 'Guns and Ammo' that he had obviously brought with him. Black was definitely the color of preference in his wardrobe. He wore black sweats and a matching colored tee. She smiled. White athletic socks with gray-tipped toes still encased his feet. John Casey was a study in contrasts. He was exasperating, adorable and exceptionally sexy.

He heard her padding, whisper quiet, across the carpet toward the bed. He kept his focus, keeping his eyes on the printed page, never finding tips for periodic pistol maintenance quite as engaging as he did right now.

The mattress sank slightly beneath him, and his heart rate and respiration increased as he felt her slowly slide up his lower body, straddling him as she lowered herself onto her haunches and sat on his lap.

Ellie easily removed the magazine from John's loose grip and tossed it aside. His gaze was bright blue and unflinching as their eyes locked and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you expect to happen here, Ellie?"

"I expect honesty, John. I expect the truth." Her grey eyes bore into his, trying to make him understand, and the corners of her mouth turned down slightly as they did when she was impassioned about her subject. "I expect us to end this frustrating dance that we've been doing around each other since we met."

She was on a roll now, and he certainly wasn't going to interrupt. She deserved to speak her piece before he inevitably had to pull the rug out from under her.

Ellie tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and flashed him a brief, shaky smile before continuing. "My life has been turned upside down and spun around in the past year." She caught the sympathetic look in his eye, and she pressed a finger against his lips as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm not saying this to lay a guilt trip on you, John, or to make you feel sorry for me," she reassured him. "I just want you to understand that in the last several months, I've learned more about the preciousness of life than I've learned in all of the hours I've spent in the ER watching it drain out of people."

She continued "We're more alike that you think. We both know that life can be brutally short. I want to live right here, right now, with you."

No one had ever made him the focal point of their life, and he was having a difficult time dredging up a response.

He reached up and cupped her face in his hand, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with his thumb. His breath hitched as she nuzzled into his palm. "Ellie," he breathed, "there are so many reasons that 'we' simply can't be." Regret laced his words.

"While Walker and I don't, the government considers you property, an asset meant to serve the greater good, not an individual."

The look of sadness on her face was tearing him apart, but he forced himself to continue. "As soon as you become more adept at controlling the Intersect," and her skills were improving rapidly every day, "you'll no longer need a handler, and we'll be separated, permanently."

She had the Bartowski fire in her eyes and steel in her voice. "Tell me," she demanded, "what would have happened a couple of weeks ago, when you brought me my badge, if we hadn't have been interrupted and called into the hospital to run triage for that accident at the chemical plant?"

"I would have hoisted you on top of the counter and fucked you. That's what would have happened," he answered unapologetically.

Ellie didn't flinch at his crude admission, nor did she back down an inch. Still straddling him, she glided up the remaining length of his muscular thighs, aligning her center with his, lowering herself atop the rock hard erection that was poking through his boxers and tenting his sweat pants. "That was then. What happens now?" she asked.

His breath hissed through his clenched teeth as she settled atop him. The silky negligee molded to her curves and shimmered warmly in the low lighting of the bedroom. Her hair hung in loose, dark waves cascading down her back and a blush stained her cheeks from the heartfelt speech she'd just delivered. Christ, all he wanted to do was hold her and bury himself inside of her.

Her eyes never left his face as she felt him untie the bow at her side, unlacing the negligee. John parted the whisper-thin fabric with his fingers, caressing his way up the satiny skin of her side.

"There's the rub, Ellie," he said.

She gasped as he trailed his knuckles along the side curve of her breast.

"Now? Now, I still want to fuck you. I want to bury myself so deeply inside of you that I feel us fuse together when you clench around me as you come."

The tip of his cock jerked against the thin fabric covering her core, the drenched silk rubbing against her swollen clit. She arched into him as he palmed her breast, the tender bud of her nipple hardening as he rubbed it with the calloused pad of his thumb.

"Now? Now, I want to take you and run. I want to keep you, but I can't. I'm a killer," he whispered. "You're a healer."

She cupped his face in her hands and leaned down. "I don't care," she murmured against his lips before taking his mouth with hers.

John Casey was a drowning man. He was fighting against what he knew was wrong, struggling not to take what wasn't his. The longer she kissed him and the closer he held her, the weaker his resistance became, until it snapped.

He ate at her mouth and their tongues played as he slid the barely hanging on negligee from her body and ran his hands slowly down her back and sides, savoring every inch of bare skin as she moved against him. She was silk under his roughened palms.

His hands stilled at the two tiny, shallow hollows at the small of her back, his fingertips swirling in the delicate divots. "John," her breath whispered against his lips as she pressed against him, seeking unification.

The rounded flesh of her bottom filled his hands as he rolled them over, drawing her underneath him, pinning her to the bed.

Ellie instinctively bowed up against him, her arms encircling his neck as he took her mouth hard, their teeth colliding and his stubble creating a delicious burn across her skin.

No words were necessary as she tugged at the top of his shirt. He responded immediately, detaching his mouth from hers, yanking the shirt off and throwing it hastily aside.

She placed her palms against his chest when he began to lower himself, returning to her. "No, John."

Confusion clouded his blue eyes as he arrested his downward motion.

Ellie smiled up at him. "Tonight, I drive."

"Mmmm," he growled low in his throat.

She felt the rumbling vibrations trail down her fingers and settle against her palms.

"Yes ma'am," he said, obligingly, before flipping her back on top of him, resting his hands on her hips.

She leaned down, her dark hair curtaining them as she kissed him, taking several long, slow draws from his mouth before kissing her way across his chiseled jaw and nipping at his chin.

Continuing her way down his throat, she licked the warm skin at the hollow, smiling when she felt his Adam's apple bob against the tip of her nose.

Casey allowed his hands to trail lightly over her body as she worked her way down his, but other than that, this was her show. He didn't relinquish control easily or often, but for her, he would.

She was doing insanely amazing things to his nipples with her teeth and tongue, and he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as she bit down, drawing a pebbled brown nub into her mouth.

The coarse hairs of his chest tickled her nose, cheeks and chin as she continued to kiss and lick, trailing her way lower. She loved the salty taste of him and the hardness as she outlined each of his abdominal muscles with the tip of her tongue. His breathing registered slow and deep and was incredibly controlled as his abdomen rose and fell against her mouth, the muscles contracting slightly each time she traced them with her tongue. She loved exploring him, tasting and touching him, giving him pleasure.

His cock rose full and thick, twitching to attention as her mouth drew closer. He was hard for her, had been all night. Hell, he was hard whenever she was near him or whenever he was thinking about her, which was pretty much constantly.

She lifted herself off of him, repositioning herself between his legs and continued to feast upon him, removing his sweats, boxers and socks, casting them aside. He groaned as her tongue circled around the tip of his cock, dipping into the slit and licking away the salty droplet crowning the top. She kissed her way down his length, stopping when she reached his sack.

His sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed handfuls of sheets as she tongued the line running down the middle of his scrotum. He lost his mind as she sucked at the sensitive skin, tracing an infinity symbol around his balls before gently drawing them into her mouth. _Sweet holy hell_!

He couldn't think as a wave after wave of pleasure boiled over him at the feel of his balls enveloped in the heat of her mouth as her tongue caressed them.

She released him softly and licked her way up his shaft, savoring every inch of velvet-covered steel. Swirling her tongue around the still-salty tip, she slowly engulfed him with her mouth, sliding down until his tip touched the back of her throat.

He knew she had taken in as much of him as she could, and he struggled against the overwhelming urge to thrust in further. Just as he was on the verge of cracking and allowing his sanity to seep out, she formed a tight ring around him with her mouth and began moving up and down, sucking harder when she got to the top and lightly running her teeth along him as she slid back down.

He was both in heaven and in hell. His Ellie, yes, 'his,' there was no point in denying it any longer, was loving him, making him feel more pleasure than he ever thought possible. Love and desire mixed with naked lust and was pouring off of her in intense, nearly palpable waves. It surrounded them. While he found this intensely satisfying and even calming, to a degree, she was doing unreal things to him with her mouth.

"Ellie, sweetheart, that feels so good," he managed to husk out. "I'm. Going. To . Come," he concentrated and managed to utter each word with extreme difficulty. "Want. To. Be. Inside. You."

She unfastened her mouth and straddled him again, gliding up his body. Her eyes were smoky with desire as she looked up and met his. He kept his gaze linked with hers as he gripped her hips, lifting her slightly, guiding her as he sheathed himself inside of her body. It was a perfect fit.

He slid his hands up along her back and held her as she rode him, dismantling the remainder of his armor, piece by piece. She was magnificent, moving above him with grace and assurance, taking what she wanted and giving him what he needed.

He was bewitched as hot, wet silk gripped his cock and her skin glowed under a fine sheen of sweat. He licked his lips as he watched her high, rounded breasts bounce, wanting desperately to taste the beaded, cherry-red tips. Instead, he skimmed his hands over her skin and up her rib cage to her breasts. He cupped her heated flesh in his hands, tracing circles around her areolas with his thumbs and rolling her nipples between his fingers. This made her moan, and she arched, throwing her head back, the ends of her hair reaching past her backside, brushing the backs of her thighs.

Until now, he'd barely moved, resisting the urge to thrust and bury himself deep, not wanting it to end, never wanting to leave the sanctity of her body. But, he couldn't wait any longer. He slid his hands down her torso, pausing briefly at the middle of her back to unbend her, guiding her upright.

As John brought her back up, straightening her, she felt the blood rush back down her body from her head. She had never felt so wild and wanton. She had never felt so wanted. She had started riding him slowly, allowing her inner walls the time to stretch and accommodate his substantial length and girth, buying him some extra time.

But, as he grasped her hips and looked at her with desire-darkened eyes, they both knew it was time. He thrust upward, holding her tightly as he bucked up into her, plunging deep, over and over, embedding himself inside her.

Ellie gripped his thighs with hers and her breath came in short pants as he lifted her hips and pulled her back down, slamming up into her. Time dilated as he thrust a final time and they remained suspended, locked together as they came. Her core clenched around his cock, milking him for every last drop as he erupted inside of her with a roar.

Her muscles shook as she lowered herself and lied on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her, still buried deep as their chests heaved against each other, forcing air into their lungs.

_Next Day, 0800, Castle_

General Diane Beckman's stern face filled the screen. "Agents Walker and Casey, Dr. Bartowski," she addressed the team sitting at the steel conference table. "There has been a change in plans. Major Casey, you will no longer be accompanying Dr. Bartowski on the Jaeger mission." The general turned her piercing gaze to Sarah. "Agent Walker, you will be going instead."

TBC…


End file.
